


Up On The Roof

by April_Valentine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:36:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the end of "Dead Reckoning" -- not original, obviously, but my take on what happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up On The Roof

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Esteefee for the wonderful beta job!

"Pick a winner, Harold," Reese says, reading upside down that the timer has thirty-nine seconds remaining. It's as though he's having an out of body experience, standing outside of reality, watching what's happening, the last few seconds of his life ticking by. He's amazed his voice sounds so steady. His back and neck are wet with sweat, and he knows his hands are shaking. All he can do is watch Finch work. 

He's said everything he had time to say. He's reminded Finch of how he once said they'd both end up dead, told him that if not for Finch choosing him to help with the numbers, he would have been dead already. For some reason, Harold was off-hand accepting his gratitude. Perhaps it was due to the pressure of choosing one last set of numbers to type in.

As Reese watches, Finch hits 7... 2... 4... and then stops and backspaces.

Finch stands there, looking at the list of possible choices. Two have been tried and found unsatisfactory. 

"You're not going to have time to get away," Reese says. 

"I won't need to, John," Finch answers without looking at him. 

Reese touches his elbow. "If this one doesn't work, I'm going to jump."

"John... " Finch says, sounding exasperated. 

The timer reads 0:14.

Finch tries one last time: 3095. 

The phone unlocks.

Reese can see that the timer reads 0:07.

Finch glances up, his face slack with relief. His eyes have dropped shut; his mouth is open in a half gasp. John has never loved him more.

Neither of them speaks. In the lights of the city, Finch's face seems pale. Suddenly, he's swaying on his feet.

Reese catches him, steadying the man who just stood there calmly defusing a bomb vest for the first time in his life. If Finch is a little weak, that's perfectly all right. Reese feels a bit shaky too. He pulls Finch closer, staggering as he nearly falls against Finch, the two of them bracing each other as they hold each other up. 

He's back in his body now, no longer observing. This is real. He's alive. They both are. He can feel Finch's arms wrapped around his body.  
They tighten just for a moment, and then Finch puts a little space between them. 

For the first time, Reese is aware of how windy it is on the roof. How cold. 

The sound of an explosion causes Finch to move away abruptly. He rushes over to the edge and stares down in confusion.

Reese knows what happened. "Guess Snow retired after all," he muses. Mark must not have made it to a CIA safe house, if he even intended to go there in the first place. He looks toward where the smoke and fire seem to be coming from, wondering about where Kara might have parked. 

Finch turns back to him, his face still strained with concern. "Are you all right?"

Reese just nods. He doesn't think he can even say anything more right, but he has to make the effort. 

“Finch,” he says, gesturing at the bomb vest. “I hate to ask, but the wiring really should be disconnected from the trigger too. Could you -- ?”

“Oh.” The look of surprise quickly vanishes from Finch’s face and he hurries over to look at the device again. “Just tell me what to do.”

Reese has disarmed bombs a few times but not while wearing one. His training is ingrained, though, and despite his fatigue, he instructs Finch on which wires to pull and the order to pull them in. Once the explosives are completely disconnected, Reese feels a wave of relief. He’s almost amused when Finch rebuttons his shirt for him.

"Can you get to your loft all right?" Finch asks. "I don't think it would be prudent if we were seen together."

All Reese can do is nod. He reaches out, placing his hand gently against Finch's cheek. Their eyes meet, and no words, as usual with them, are needed.

"Get some rest," Finch advises. He bends awkwardly to pick up the hard drive Reese left on the ground.

When he stands, he meets Reese’s eyes once more. The connection is immediate, close, permanent. It’s as if the wind and the cold are suddenly gone. Reese feels the warmth in Finch’s eyes, holding him, as if they were together in the security of the library. 

“I’ll see you soon, John,” Finch says very softly, lifting his hand in good-bye.

Reese compresses his lips, nods, and his eyes blur a bit. His chest feels tight with emotion. 

All at once, overwhelming exhaustion sweeps over him. Reese turns, feeling clumsy as he makes for the steps leading down from the roof. When he'd taken them up, he thought he wouldn't be walking back down again. 

Somewhere around the fifteenth floor, Fusco meets him. His eyes appraise Reese but he doesn't comment, other than to state he sent Carter home. "She's okay," he announces gruffly. "That car accident rattled her a lot, I guess."

Reese nods, and they take the rest of the stairs together. When they reach the street, Reese realizes his ears are ringing and if someone stops him, he wouldn't know what name to give them, what to say about what he'd been doing up there.

Fortunately, Fusco handles things, steering Reese to his car, opening the door and putting a light hand on Reese's arm to help him inside. Reese keeps his eyes on the passing buildings as Fusco drives, and when the car stops, he's surprised to find they've arrived at his apartment building. 

"You need any help?" Fusco murmurs as though Reese will reprimand him for asking.

He wants to say something snarky, but he can't come up with anything particularly devastating at the moment. "No," he manages, his voice raspy. "Thanks for the ride."

He extricates himself from Fusco's car and looks for his keys in his jacket pocket. By some miracle, they're there so he nods and enters the building before Fusco can drive away. 

The slight rest he's had during the car ride lasts just enough to get him inside the loft. He closes the door and sags against it, relief making him want nothing more than to collapse across his bed and sleep for a week. He takes a step and the tight drag of the bomb vest makes him realize he can't stop to sleep just yet. And a shower would feel really good too.

The bathroom seems miles away. Passing the kitchen, John thinks about food but decides he might not be able to keep anything down. Later... later, he tells himself. 

The bathroom light glares and reminds him he's got a headache. Squinting, he takes in his appearance. Red eyes, pale face, vacant expression. So much for the so-called monster that Donnelly had arrested, the predator Kara had used. Right now, Reese is a used up husk, but maybe that was a bit safer, all things considered.

Finch had rebuttoned his shirt to cover the bomb. Now Reese’s fingers shake as he undoes it again. He knows it's not going to go off now, but here, alone in his own home, he no longer has to keep himself tightly in control. The adrenaline and anger at Kara have worn off and all he's left with are his frayed nerves. 

He slides his arms out of his rumpled shirt and lets it drop to the floor. A sudden chill sweeps over him and he has to grab the edge of the sink to keep upright. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, telling himself silently that he's alive. He is alive and Finch is alive and nobody else died because of him. Not today. 

After a moment, he feels better. Time to deal with the vest. He looks at it in the mirror. The timer device and trigger have been disconnected, but the bomb still holds enough Semtex to blow up the entire floor. Reese wants it off and somewhere it can't harm anyone. 

There's only one problem. He can't see how it's fastened. Not in the front, not at the sides.

He turns around, craning his neck to look in the mirror. It's buckled in the back. "Fuck... " 

He takes a moment to gather himself again, then grasps the shoulders of the vest, intending to slide it up over his head. It's tight, but he has the strength to manage it. Or he did a week ago. 

"Shit!" Should have let Fusco help -- yeah, right. That's exactly who he'd like to see him like this.

"Can I help you out of that, John?"

The soft voice behind him hits him like a gunshot. Reese recoils in shock at the unexpected sound, his heart pounding like he'd just climbed up those twenty flights again.

It takes a moment to regain control and turn. Of course. Finch has slipped into the loft and has found him in the bathroom. 

"I would have gotten here sooner, but I wanted to take the hard drive to the library and let Bear out. He's really missed you, but I thought you'd like to rest before being greeted by a seventy-five-pound Malinois."

Too tired even to be embarrassed, Reese just shrugs. He's glad when Finch doesn't bother to apologize for startling him. Turning his back to the other man, he lets Finch fuss with the buckles and it's all he can do not to tremble as he feels the heavy vest loosening.

Finally, he's free of it, but instead of feeling lighter, his whole body aches with a heaviness he knows has nothing to do with weight. The familiar shadow of depression is looming over him again. Has it really been less than a week since he told Finch he was happy? He considers... but he can't even remember what that felt like, and at this moment, he doubts he'll ever feel that way again.

Hands grip his shoulders and turn him around. "John?" Finch looks worried.

Reese wants to say something, but his throat feels like the desert. Instead, he allows Finch to pull the undershirt off over his head. Moving his arms hurts and when the shirt is off, Finch is regarding him with more concern than ever. 

A glance in the mirror reveals why. His stomach is covered with reddish bruises from the fight at Rikers. His shoulders and arms are mottled with darker ones. For a moment, he doesn't know where they came from, then he remembers the accident, Kara ramming Donnelly's car with a truck. 

"She killed Donnelly." That moment seems like a lifetime ago.

"I know." Finch gets his belt undone and pulls it from his pants. "It's going to be all right."

Donnelly didn't deserve to die that way. Reese can't say it out loud though. He can only stand there and let Finch take the rest of his clothes off and nudge him toward the shower. 

Somehow, he's inside the stall, letting the hot water beat down on him, easing the aches from his stay at Rikers and the accident. No amount of hot water can make him stop thinking about what Kara did or stop the slow building certainty that he’d never be free of his past. This day could have been his last. He's gotten lucky once again, but it's only a matter of time. He closes his eyes and lets images of his past and present swirl in his head, people he and Kara killed, numbers he'd saved, Elias locking him in the freezer truck with Leila, finding Finch in the train station.

He doesn't know how long he's been leaning against the tiled shower wall, but when the curtain slides back, he puts up both hands to ward off the attack. 

"It's only me, John." It's Finch, he realizes distantly. Finch, without his glasses. Without his clothes. 

And when Finch wraps Reese up in strong, tender arms, John's heart stops pounding so hard. Gradually, his mind comes back to the present. He's here, he's safe, he's alive. He's not alone.

Exhaustion makes him lose track of what's happening, but he trusts Finch to get him out of the shower. When he next focuses, he's dry and in his bed. A glass of water is pressed to his lips and he drinks thirstily until it's empty. The bed dips and he feels warmth along his side, another bare body smooth against his skin. 

“Finch? You’re stayin’?” he mumbles.

"I'll stay for awhile, then I need to go back. Get as much rest as you need."

His head finds its way to Finch's shoulder and that spot is more comfortable than he could have ever imagined. There’s just enough strength left in his arms to wrap them around Finch. It feels so right, so good.

"You can sleep now, John," Finch says.

Reese nods, feeling soft hair from Finch's chest tickle his nose. Finch’s hand is in Reese’s hair, combing through it, soothing him. His headache has faded and he feels... treasured. Finch didn't leave him alone on the roof. Or now. 

When he wakes, it's dark outside. The clock says it's ten at night. He's slept for twenty-four hours and he's famished. He has to take a piss too, so he swings his legs from under the covers and gets up. When he returns from the bathroom, he finds that Finch has left food for him. He's too hungry to warm up the roast chicken, so he just sits at the counter and eats, drinking some more water. When he's done, he's tired again, so he goes back to bed. 

There are dreams -- not of bombs and death, but of Finch and life. Finch, naked in bed with him, holding him and comforting him. Reese opens his eyes, looking deep into Finch’s, finding their belief in him almost too much to handle. Still not speaking, he leans forward to kiss him...and wakes. Maybe someday, he tells himself.

The morning sun is streaming through his windows. John stretches and sighs, feeling rested at last. It's a new day. He's slept off the depression, apparently. Maybe it was Finch being here, holding him. He'll have to thank him when he gets to the library.

For now, all he wants is a cup of coffee and to see Finch at his computer, typing away. And Bear. 

When he’s dressed, Reese picks up his phone and presses the speed dial number for Finch. 

“Yes, Mr. Reese?” he answers and Reese smiles at the typical businesslike diffidence in his tone. 

“I seem to have lost a day,” Reese answers. He can’t remember the last time he spent thirty-six hours sleeping.

“You needed the rest, I’m sure.”

“I’m coming in this morning. Do we have a new number?”

“Fortunately, we do not. You could take some more time if you like.”

Reese hesitates, unsure of what to say to that. Is Finch feeling awkward after staying with him the other night? He takes a breath. “No, I’m good. I want to see Bear. You said he missed me.”

“Of course. He’s been quite inconsolable.” Finch sounds perfectly serious.

“And I think we should talk,” Reese adds with just a hint of banter. “I feel you should... debrief me after all that’s happened.” 

“ _Debrief_ you?” Finch asks in a voice unlike any Reese has heard from him before. “Certainly, John. I think that would be appropriate.”

Reese is smiling when he hangs up the phone.


End file.
